


Operation Cracklepop

by isquinnabel



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Banter, Birthday, Celebrations, Family, Gen, Party of 3+, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isquinnabel/pseuds/isquinnabel
Summary: Sam had barely walked in the door when Kristy pounced, yanking him upstairs by the arm.





	Operation Cracklepop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodredcherries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherries/gifts).



Sam had barely walked in the door when Kristy pounced, yanking him upstairs by the arm.

“Hey!” he yelped. “Help! I’m being kidnapped!”  
“Shut up!” she hissed.

When the hell had Kristy got so strong? When she shoved him into her bedroom, Charlie and David Michael were already there. David Michael was sprawled on the floor, and the little twerp was laughing at Sam’s pain.  
“Welcome home, Sam,” he grinned.  
“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered. He flopped down on the bed, next to Charlie. “How did you get roped into this?  
“Don’t know what _this_ is yet,” Charlie murmured.

All three boys turned to look at Kristy. She was placing a rolled-up towel against the bottom of the door. Sam groaned.  
“This doesn’t bode well.”  
“Yeah, Kristy, isn’t that a bit much?” asked Charlie. “No-one else is home.”  
“No-one else is home? Are you kidding me? Kristy! Come on!”  
“I don’t want to do this downstairs! Mom could be home any minute and she’ll immediately come looking for Sam.”  
Sam nodded sagely. “Understandable. I am her finest work.”  
David Michael threw one of Kristy’s sweaters at Sam, who retaliated with a t-shirt, the same sweater, and a baseball cap. He was about to grab her math notebook – an adequate makeshift shield – when Kristy proclaimed, “Okay! Let’s begin!”  
David Michael threw the sweater back at Sam, as hard as he could.  
“Ow!” complained Charlie. “You got me in the face with the zipper!”  
“Guys!”  
Giggling, David Michael threw the t-shirt and the baseball cap at Kristy instead of Sam. Kristy, with an air of cool dignity, caught the cap and placed it on her head.  
“I’ve called this meeting to discuss Mom’s birthday present.”  
Sam rolled his eyes.  
“Kristy, Christmas is in less than a week. Mom’s birthday isn’t until August. You’ve got your holidays mixed up.”  
David Michael frowned. “Mom’s birthday isn’t a holiday.”  
“You know what I mean.”  
“Anyway!” interjected Kristy. “I’ve had a brilliant idea, and it’s too late to do it for Christmas. But we can do it for her birthday, and we all need to be home to make it. So now is a good time.”  
“Make it?” asked Charlie warily.  
“I think we’re past the age where macaroni necklaces are acceptable,” said Sam.

This lukewarm response didn’t faze Kristy one bit. She strode confidently to her desk, where there was a stack of family photo albums with colored post-its sticking out at all angles.

“I think we should recreate an old photo,” she said proudly.  
“You think we should what?”  
“Recreate a photo!” She flipped open one of the albums, holding it up for her brothers to see. “Like, dress as close to this as possible, recreate the poses and our expressions, and take a new photo.”  
“No way!” protested David Michael. “I’m not wearing a diaper! I’m eleven!”  
“You don’t have to wear a diaper, white shorts would be fine. And it doesn’t have to be this exact photo. We have plenty to choose from. And then we can frame the old one and the new one together, and give it to Mom. She’d love it!”  
Sam laughed. “I’m totally on board with this. Gimme that album!”  
“I’m not! I’m a baby in all these photos, I’m gonna look stupid!”  
“We’ll all look stupid,” said Kristy. “That’s the fun. Plus, Sam has yet to act human in any family photo. He’ll out-stupid you.”  
“Not untrue,” agreed Sam.  
“Look, how about we all have veto power over photo choice,” said Charlie. “If you really hate a photo, we can just pick a different one. Is that okay?”  
David Michael sighed. “I guess.”

Kristy beamed. “Great! Now, I’ve color-coded these post-its by location. I’m sure Mr and Mrs Perkins would be fine with us going over there to shoot, but we should pick a photo in the yard. Or at least something without their furniture in the background. But there’s also some great photos at Brenner Field, and a couple at the school playground! Also, Claudia and I can scout thrift stores if we need costumes…”

“Oh, man,” muttered Sam, catching Charlie’s eye. “What have we agreed to?”

  


* * *

  


The rest of the family came home before they settled on a photo, and Kristy gave Sam strict instructions to Keep Mom Busy until they came out. He galumphed casually down the stairs while the others hastily put albums back together.

“You all missed my entrance!” he complained.  
“Well, we didn’t miss your stuff,” said Emily, kicking his suitcase to the side. “You left it all in the doorway! I could have tripped! And _died_!”  
“Sorry, sweetheart,” said Mom, wrapping him in a warm hug. “You didn’t come home to an empty house, did you? Where are the others?”  
“Washington Mall. Something about returning Emily’s Christmas presents.”  
“They went to Washington Mall without me? I need to go to Toy Palace!”  
“Relax, Andrew,” said Karen. “He was kidding. Don’t you have any more bags Sam? These are suspiciously light.”  
“Yeah,” Emily chimed in. “Where are my presents?”  
“Girls, come on. At least pretend you’re just offering to carry his bags.”

At this moment, Watson and Nannie came through the door, stamping the snow from the bottom of their boots.  
“Welcome home, Sam!” said Watson cheerfully. “Do you need a hand with your bags?”  
“See?” said Mom. “Like that.”  
“You’re a shameless gift-grabber, Dad.”  
“Yeah,” agreed Sam. “You can all calm down, you’re just getting hugs for Christmas. Except you, Nannie. You get a handshake.”  
Nannie raised her eyebrows. “Did I just hear you volunteer to make dinner tonight? Thanks, Sam! It’s good to have you home.”  
“Sam’s making dinner?” David Michael clattered down the stairs, with Kristy at his heels. “Gross. Can I go to Linny’s?”  
“Show some respect, kid. My take-out ordering skills are second to none.”  
Nannie cleared her throat loudly, and Sam gave a resigned sigh.  
“Oh, all right. Second to you.”  
Emily giggled as Nannie gave Sam a swat on the shoulder.  
“Kitchen!”  
Sam gave her bear hug, and a loud kiss on the cheek. “I missed you too, Nannie.”

  


* * *

  


The week before Christmas was as busy and crazy as ever, interspersed with clandestine meetings to choose the right photo. Between Kristy’s insistence on a re-creatable location, and David Michael’s liberal use of his veto power, Sam half expected the whole thing to fizzle out. But they eventually settled on a photo taken in their yard on Bradford Court.

“This was taken in the summer,” said Kristy. “We’ll have to reconvene next year. Sam, Charlie, will you be home for spring break?”  
“Maybe,” said Charlie, while Sam shrugged.  
Kristy sighed. “They’ll probably be different weeks anyway.”  
“Let’s just wait til summer,” said Sam. “Mom’s birthday isn’t til August. That’s plenty of time.”  
“Okay. I guess we’ll have to figure out dates later, it’s too far away to nail down now. In the meantime, just do your homework.”  
“Homework? I never agreed to homework!”  
“I mean look for a matching outfit. You’re wearing blue shorts and a red shirt, David Michael. It’s not hard!”  
“Okay,” he muttered. “Just don’t call it homework.”

  


* * *

  


When the Thomas-Brewer Christmas whirlwind came to an end, Sam headed back to school and his life returned to its usual cycle of class, lab reports, and parties. One morning, months later, his traditional Saturday sleep-in was rudely interrupted by his roommate banging his fist on the wall above Sam’s bed.

“Rise and shine, Sam!”  
“Fuck off,” he mumbled, his mouth half-full of pillow.

Toby, who was apparently nursing a death wish, waved the cordless phone in front of Sam’s face.

“Phone for you. It’s your sister.”  
“Tell her I hate her,” he groaned. “And that she’s out of my will.”  
“I heard that!” came a distant, tinny voice. Toby laughed, dropped the phone on Sam’s pillow, and walked out. Sam made a mental note to eat Toby’s leftover pizza for breakfast. He grabbed blindly for the phone, making incoherent grumpy noises until he finally found it.  
“What?” he growled.  
“Good morning to you, too. I have an update on Operation Cracklepop.”  
Sam rubbed his eyes with the heel of his free hand.  
“Huh?”  
“Sam! You know what I’m talking about!”  
“I really, really don’t.”  
“You do too! I…” Kristy paused. “Actually, yeah, we named it after you left. I guess I never mentioned it.”  
“Kristy,” he groaned. “It’s too early for this.”  
“It’s ten thirty! And Operation Cracklepop is what we’re calling Mom’s photo recreation.”  
“Why?”  
“Because a good codename has nothing to do with the actual thing. Andrew named it. We were making Rice Krispies treats at the time.”  
Sam sighed. “It was really more of an existential why, but thanks.”  
“You’re awfully mad for someone who’s about to be let off the hook,” said Kristy. “You know how you’re wearing a Car Man shirt in the photo?”  
“Uh… yeah,” he lied. He knew he’d need a yellow shirt, but he hadn’t thought about it any deeper than that.  
“Well, Claudia made you a replica. So you’re all set on the t-shirt front.”  
Sam gave a loud yawn.  
“How did Car Man even get his powers? Was he bitten by a radioactive station wagon?”  
“Dunno. I don’t think the movie addressed that.”  
He groaned. “That’s gonna bug me.”  
“You’ll live. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your oppressive schedule.”  
“’Kay. Thanks for the free t-shirt.”  
“Anytime.” Kristy paused. “Wait, no! I take that back!”  
“Too late!” Sam hung up as fast as he could. He let go of the phone, and it fell to the floor with a loud clunk as he pulled his quilt back over his head. It was, after all, still obscenely early.

  


* * *

  


The school year, as it always does, eventually drew to a close. For Sam, this meant exchanging one circus for another. He liked them both, so he was in a good mood as he shoved clothes into his suitcase. Someone else’s music was blasting in the hall, but it was someone with halfway decent taste, so he left the door open while he packed.

When the phone rang, he groaned. Judging from the sound, it had fallen between Toby’s pile of boxes and the wall.

He would have just ignored it, but he was waiting for a call from Charlie. He had to lie flat on his stomach, angling his arm through an awkward gap, to fish it out.  
“Hello?” he mumbled, heaving himself up off the floor.  
“It’s me.”  
“Hey! What’s the plan?”  
“My flight gets into JFK at eleven.”  
“I can be there at eleven,” Sam confirmed. “More or less.”  
“I told Mom it gets in at two, so that gives us a decent window. You know.” Sam could hear the grin in Charlie’s voice. “For Operation Cracklepop.”  
“I keep calling it Operation Snapple. Kristy thinks I’m doing it on purpose.”  
“Are you?”  
“No, it’s actually a genuine mistake.” Sam flopped onto his bed, welcoming the break from packing. “Wait… shit. We’re driving straight to the old house?”  
“Yeah. Watson’s taking her out for the afternoon, to make sure she doesn’t incidentally drive past. He’s taking his role very seriously. Why, what’s up?”  
Sam stared at his bulging suitcase.  
“Pretty sure the shorts I have to wear are at the bottom of my suitcase.”  
Charlie laughed. “Good job.”  
Sam groaned.  
“I don’t wanna unpack!”  
“Just wear different shorts, it’s fine.”  
“Nah, Kristy’ll kill me. Plus I actually bought new shorts for this. I want to wear the damn things.”  
“Bummer. Well, just so you know, I told Mom you’re picking me up on your way through. She wants to talk to you though, she’s planning out dates for Shadow Lake.”  
“No probs,” said Sam. “I’ll call her tonight. Do you think she’ll feel sorry for me if I whine a lot about packing? Make myself sound all helpless and pathetic?”  
“I think she’ll laugh at you.”  
“What if I cry?”  
“More laughing.”  
Sam sighed.  
“What if I get her to pass the phone to Watson?”  
“There are eight people in that house, and every single one of them will laugh at you.”  
“Really? Even Andrew? He’s too nice to laugh at me!”  
“Maybe,” conceded Charlie. “But he definitely won’t feel sorry for you.”  
“What a callous bunch we are.” Sam glanced at his watch. “I gotta go, man. I need to get this stupid packing done.”  
“Sure, no problem. See you Tuesday.”  
“See ya.”

Sam hung up the phone and stared at his suitcase. With a long-suffering sigh, he tipped everything onto the floor.

  


* * *

  


“I don’t get it.”  
Gabbie Perkins narrowed her eyes, watching David Michael as he tried to balance on Charlie’s shoulders.  
“Tell me again.”  
Sam sighed. Explaining this to random onlookers – especially ones under ten – was more Kristy’s territory.  
“We used to live here. There’s a photo of us, as little kids, in the yard. We’re taking the same photo again for our mom’s birthday.”  
“But… why?”  
Sam raked his hands through his hair.  
“Kid, your shoe’s untied.”  
“I’m not wearing shoes,” she immediately replied, glaring at him.  
“Congratulations!” he said. “You didn’t fall for the fake shoelace ploy! You’re officially smarter than David Michael.”  
Her eyes lit up. He sensed his window to run like hell, but before he could take it, Gabbie slammed it shut again.  
“But _why_?”

“Sam! Are you coming or what?”  
Freedom!  
“Sorry kid, I’m needed!” Sam jogged over to Charlie, who was rubbing his shoulders.  
“Do you need to keep practicing?” asked Kristy. “Can you find your center of balance okay?”  
“We’re fine, Kristy,” said Charlie. “No more practicing. I’m not doing that again until the actual photo is being taken. He’s gotten heavy.”  
“I ate two desserts last night,” grinned David Michael.  
“And a third this morning,” added Kristy. “Does Mom know you had a popsicle for breakfast?”  
“It’s summer!”  
“Just a popsicle?” asked Sam. “Aren’t you hungry?”  
“I also had eggs, toast, and bacon. And cereal. And a banana,” said David Michael. “The popsicle was for breakfast dessert.”  
Charlie groaned. “That explains a lot.”  
“Easy, grandpa,” said Sam. “We’ve still got the main event to go.”  
“Hey, where’s Claudia?” asked David Michael.  
Kristy checked her watched, and sighed. “She’s two minutes late. Hey, Gabbie!”

Gabbie looked up. She was sitting cross-legged on the lawn, braiding some long strands of grass.

“Can you go get Claudia for us?”  
“Sure!” Gabbie beamed, clambering to her feet. She looked both ways with exaggerated care before skipping across the street.  
“Look at you,” said Sam. “Exploiting the neighborhood kids for your own benefit.”  
“She wants to go! She likes Claudia.”  
“Uh huh.”  
“If I’d gone myself I’d still have brought Gabbie with me.”  
“You have a small army of willing slaves in this town. It’s a little terrifying.”  
Kristy rolled her eyes.  
“If you think kids are willing slaves, you’ve clearly never baby-sat.”  
“Hey! I sat for this kid all the time!”  
“I was never your slave,” retorted David Michael.  
“Eh, you were pretty little. Little kids will believe anything.”  
“They also have short attention spans,” added Charlie. “Tricking David Michael into doing your chores never worked for long.”  
“I never fell for that!” declared David Michael.  
“You did when you were really little,” said Kristy. “But folding laundry was boring, so you just stopped.”  
“You mean you distracted him,” said Sam. “Traitor!”  
“Well, you pulled stupid shit on me too! Younger sibling solidarity, right David Michael?”  
Kristy and David Michael high fived, while Sam gave them a stern glare.  
“In my day, we respected our elders.”  
David Michael turned to Charlie. “Did he?”  
“Nope.”  
“You’ll all be sorry,” warned Sam. “Just wait til I write my tell-all.”

“Hey guys!”  
Claudia was crossing the street, hand-in-hand with Gabbie. She was dressed completely in black, and had a large camera slung around her neck.  
“I found her!” announced Gabbie.  
“Nice work, Gabbers!”  
“What’s with the clothes?” asked Sam. “You moonlighting as a cat burglar?”  
“I’m a photographer,” she said loftily.  
“She’s _our_ photographer,” added Kristy. “Come on, let’s get to work. We’re losing the light!”  
“What does that mean?” asked David Michael, bewildered.  
“It means Kristy doesn’t understand photography,” said Claudia. “Relax, Kristy, the light’s fine.”  
“Might as well get this over with,” sighed Charlie. “Come on, David Michael. Hop on.”  
The four of them got into position, while Claudia adjusted various dials on her camera.  
“Claudia! Come on, I can’t hold him for long.”  
Yeah, Kishi,” said Sam. “Get your ass in gear.”  
Kristy elbowed him hard in the ribs, and he yelped. She nodded ferociously towards Gabbie, who was still gazing at them with intense curiosity.  
“I mean, get your… donkey… in gear.”  
“Okay, we’re good to go.” Claudia brushed her hair out of her eyes. “You ready? Three… two… one!”

  


* * *

  


Sam, for some unknown reason, was allocated the task of wrapping the final product.  
“I can’t believe you trust me with this,” he said. “What if I forget? What if I wrap the wrong photo? What if I use twenty layers of saran wrap instead of regular paper?”  
He’d only intended to throw around empty words, but the saran wrap idea was actually pretty good. He made a mental note to save it for some other present. Karen’s birthday, maybe.  
“Because I trust you even less with the card,” said Kristy.  
“Yeah, plus that’s my specialty,” added Charlie. “I’m the king of cards.”  
“You and your lousy sincerity. Fine, whatever. Leave it to me.”

Mom’s birthday came around at the beginning of August, in a narrow window of time between the younger kids’ return from Camp Mohawk, and the family’s annual trip to Shadow Lake. The Thomas-Brewers cleared several baskets of laundry and a half-repaired float from the dining room table, making way for a large chocolate cake and a stack of presents. 

“Good haul this year, Elizabeth,” said Karen.  
“She hasn’t opened them yet,” replied Sam. “What if they’re all full of live bugs?”  
“Then she gets to go to Shadow Lake alone with a book!” said Nannie.  
“That’s fair,” agreed Watson.  
“Come on, Mom!” cried Emily. “Open mine!”  
“Alright! Which one’s yours, hon?”  
“The green one!”

Mom reached for a lime-green package while Emily wriggled impatiently in her seat.  
“Let me guess. Ours is the zebra paper,” murmured Kristy.  
The package at the bottom of the pile was wrapped in gaudy paper, printed with a pattern of grinning cartoon zebras. They were probably intended to be fun and goofy, but the overall effect was pretty unnerving.  
“Duh, of course it is,” Sam whispered back. “We beat all these bozos in the unofficial wrapping paper contest.”  
Kristy grinned, playfully rolling her eyes.  
“Whatever you say, Sam.”

Sam had strategically placed their gift so it would be the very last one. Mom worked happily through the pile, building a nice little stash of birthday treats; a couple of books, tickets to a Broadway show, homemade chocolates, and so on. _Karen was right_ , thought Sam. It was a good haul.

“Just the one left!” said Mom, reaching for their gift. “I’m going out on a limb and guessing that Sam wrapped this one.”  
“I’ve grown predictable in my old age.”  
“It’s from the four of us. Me, Sam, Charlie, and David Michael.”  
“Rip it,” commanded David Michael. “Saving the paper is for chumps!”  
“Especially that paper,” said Andrew.  
“Yeah,” agreed Karen. “I feel like those zebras want to eat my soul.”

Against her kids’ collective advice, Mom gently unpeeled the tape from one end.

“You’re so slow!” complained Emily.  
“Hey!” said Mom. “Whose birthday is this? I want to savor my last present.”  
“Take as much time as you want, Mom.”  
“Thank you, Charlie.”  
“Suck up,” said Sam.  
Nannie reached over and gave him a swat on the shoulder.  
“Ow! You know, you do that to me a lot.”  
“You earn it a lot,” she countered.  
“She’s got you there, Sam.”

Meanwhile, Mom had finished opening one end of the package. She lifted off the paper to reveal a large Rice Krispies box.

“Don’t eat them all at once, Mom,” said Sam. “That’s gotta last you a whole year.”  
She hugged the box with a happy sigh. “It’s just what I always wanted!”  
“Keep opening!” urged Emily. “I want to see!”  
Karen elbowed her.  
“You know what it is!” she whispered.  
“I haven’t seen it yet,” Emily hissed back.

Inside the box, Mom had to get through a layer of tissue paper, a layer of bubble wrap, and another layer of tissue paper before she made it to the end. She made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, and her right hand flew to cover her mouth.

“Do you like it?” demanded David Michael.  
“You made her cry!” squawked Emily. “It’s her _birthday_!”  
“She’s not crying, she’s laughing,” said Andrew. “Right, Elizabeth?”  
“Both,” she giggled, wiping hastily at her eyes. She turned the frame around for them all to see, and shouts of laughter erupted from the group.  
“I must say,” said Watson. “You picked out a classic Thomas family moment to recreate.”

Watson was right. That was exactly why they’d picked it: Sam was goofing off and crossing his eyes; David Michael was laughing at Sam, perched on Charlie’s shoulders; Charlie was glancing up at David Michael, making sure he was okay; and Kristy looked straight at the camera, exasperated, but trying to suppress a grin. 

“You still make that face in photos, Sam.”  
“What can I say? Classics never go out of style.”  
“I can’t stop looking at it,” said Mom, facing it back towards herself. “Look at you all! You’re so little! You’re so _big_!”  
“Plus they look ridiculous,” added Karen.  
“The icing on the cake,” agreed Mom.

Emily, losing interest in the photo, crumpled up a ball of wrapping paper and batted it across the table at Andrew. A makeshift game of volleyball unfolded between them, while Watson and Charlie started gathering dirty plates and cake forks.  
“That’s not how you play volleyball,” said David Michael.  
“It’s wrapping paper,” said Andrew. “I don’t think it matters.”  
“You’ll never get to the wrapping paper Olympics with that attitude.”  
“What other sports does the wrapping paper Olympics have?” mused Karen. “Soccer? Not basketball. Wrapping paper balls don’t bounce.”  
“No water polo,” added Nannie.  
“Wrapping paper rhythmic gymnastics!” cried Emily, spiking the ball at Andrew.  
“Fencing,” said Sam. “With paper rolls.”  
Andrew missed the ball, and it rolled near the doorway to the kitchen.  
“Well?” prompted Emily.  
“Nah. I’m done.”  
“Does that mean I win?”  
“Okay.”  
“Yes!” Emily pumped her fist. “Wrapping paper Olympics, here I come!”  
“Speaking of winning,” said Kristy, “I hereby announce that Operation Cracklepop is a resounding success.”

Mom looked up from the photo, wiping away another tear.

“Operation what?”  
Kristy’s eyes lit up.  
“I’m glad you asked! It’s an interesting story, Mom. I’m gonna start at the beginning.”  
“Mom, no!” groaned Sam. “What have you done?”


End file.
